


The Little Soldier Boy's Wedding March

by chanderson



Series: Young, Scrappy, and Hungry [19]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Barebacking, Bottom George, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: George sighs and smiles a little sadly. “I never thought we’d be here. Another wedding,” he murmurs. Then, meeting Lafayette’s eyes, he rolls his shoulders back and stands up a little straighter. A soldier going into battle. “Thanks for always being there for me, Gilbert.”





	1. Some Place between Then and Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SORRY it took me so long to get to this. I had a lot of trouble getting this started. 
> 
> If you haven't read [In the Beginning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11075790/chapters/24703122), the premise of this first chapter may not make that much sense. If you don't want to read the whole thing, then I suggest at least reading Chapter 5. Of course, you don't have to; this story will definitely still make sense without it. That would just provide some background!
> 
> Enjoy :-)

Lafayette has his head bowed over a thick briefing on Israeli-Palestinian relations, a tumbler of bourbon by his elbow. He drags his highlighter over a long sentence and sighs loudly through his nose. He wasn’t planning on spending the night before George’s wedding reading a briefing. 

George suddenly walks back into the kitchen, his socked feet thudding against the floor as he stomps from room to room. Lafayette rolls his eyes and levels George with a stern look.

“George, you need to stop fucking pacing. You’re going to wear a hole in your nice, vintage floors.” George immediately comes to a stop and anxiously shifts his weight.

“Sorry. I’m just a little…” he waves his hand frustratedly. “I’m a little worked up.” Lafayette rolls his eyes and motions to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the counter. 

“Drink up, brother. Or go for a run. Do _anything_. Your pacing is driving me crazy.” Lafayette lowers his eyes back down to his briefing and gets his highlighter. He’s in mid-highlight when George drops into a seat and lays his head on his folded arms, letting out a loud sigh. 

“I think I’m going to die,” he groans. Lafayette crosses his arms and throws a pen at George. It hits his head and clatters against the table.“You’re so mean to me,” George mutters, not bothering to raise his head. Lafayette raises his eyebrows and scoffs.

“Drink or go outside before I kill you.” 

Lafayette goes back to reading his briefing, but looks up when he feels George watching him. A snarky comment is on the tip of his tongue, but when he looks up, it’s like he’s back in 1999. George is looking at him with big, sad eyes, and Lafayette is instantly reminded of the tall, lanky boy who hid scars under too-big shirts and burned Lafayette’s skin with his tears. He’s reminded of the nights he spent holding George. Protecting him. Saving him. 

Except it’s not 1999. It’s 2021.

But some things don’t change.

Lafayette gets up and holds his hand out, waiting, and George stares at it. And just when Lafayette is about to let his hand drop to his side, George grabs it and lets Lafayette help him up. They stand there together, suspended in some place between Then and Now. George’s palm is sweaty, but Lafayette doesn’t let go. 

They walk upstairs to the bedroom, silent. Lafayette is afraid to talk, can sense that George is too. If they talk, will it end the moment? Place them firmly back into Now? 

Sometimes it’s easier to go back to Then. Back when they were young and everything made sense. No one was dead or sick or scarred by war. They were young, ambitious, tentatively hopeful. 

So they climb into bed together and chase the feeling of being 19 again, when the possibilities were endless and their lives stretched out in front of them like a never-ending ocean. 

George is warm and solid in Lafayette’s arms, bulky in the places he used to be thin. Stronger, more solid. But if Lafayette closes his eyes, suddenly none of that matters, because George still smells the same, still breathes the same. It’s a different time and a different place, but George is still George, and Lafayette is still Lafayette. 

Maybe it should feel dirty, because George is getting married to Alex tomorrow, and Alex is just across the property at one of the guest houses. Maybe it should feel wrong, because Lafayette has two children and a wife. But it doesn’t. As they lay there in the dark, it feels completely right, because George is nervous and a little scared, and Lafayette promised George that he would always be there. 

So here he is. 

\---

Lafayette feels rather than hears George get up. One second his body is there and the next it’s gone. Lafayette cracks his eyes open and props himself up, squinting in the darkness. George is halfway out the door when Lafayette calls his name. He immediately stiffens and turns around like a chastised child. Lafayette arches an eyebrow and reaches over to turn on the lamp. They both cringe at the sudden burst of light. 

“Where are you going?” Lafayette finally asks, his voice still thick with sleep. George leans in the doorway and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt. 

“Downstairs. I need some air.” He shifts his weight and scratches his cheek. Even from across the room, Lafayette can see the shadow of stubble on his cheeks—just a hint of salt-and-pepper. Lafayette sighs and shrugs. 

“It’s your house and the night before your wedding. Do what you want.” George furrows his eyebrows, obviously expecting more pushback. 

“Okay,” he says slowly, a little guilty. 

He shuts the door carefully, pulling it shut slowly so it closes with a soft click. Lafayette looks around the master bedroom; he’s only ever stayed in the guest bedrooms at Mt. Vernon. It’s nice—spacious yet quaint. The big, oversized canopy is comfortable and makes Lafayette feel safe. 

Now that George is gone, Lafayette contemplates getting up and leaving, going down to the guest bedroom down the hall where his stuff is. But then he thinks about George coming back to an empty bed, wonders if George would be sad that he left. 

So he stays. 

\---

Lafayette wakes up to the sound of George snoring, a soft inhale-and-exhale that tickles his ear. He opens his eyes and winces as the sunlight streaming in from the window hits him right in the eyes. George is right next to him, curled up on his side. His mouth is slack, and Lafayette marvels again at how young George looks. 

He gropes for his phone on the bedside table, finally grabbing it and holding it up to check the time. He barely ever wakes up before his alarm, and it feels strangely good. 

Then he remembers that George is getting married today and breaks into a grin, unable to help himself. He prods George’s shoulder for several seconds before his eyes fly open and he grunts, blinking in the light. 

“Gil?” he slurs tiredly. “What time is it?”Lafayette laughs and sits up, stretching his arms above his head. 

“It’s almost nine. You need to get and start getting ready. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.” 

George’s face goes through a progression of emotions until it settles on tentatively excited. He laughs a little breathlessly and nods. 

“Shit, you’re right.” His smile falls a bit and he swallows. “I’m getting married today.” He laughs again, but this time it’s more hysterical, tinged with the nerves Lafayette was expecting. 

“You going to throw up?” Lafayette asks dryly, remembering how much of a mess George was when he married Martha. George sits up and holds his head in his hands. 

“I don’t think so?” he says, though it sounds more like a question than a statement. Lafayette laughs and pats George’s back. 

“That’s better than a ‘yes.’” He cancels the alarm on his phone before it can go off and throws the blankets off. “You should shower, okay? Wake yourself up a little.” George looks up at him with a look that can best be described as uncertain. Lafayette cocks his head, silently asking what’s wrong. When George speaks again, he turns his head to stare out the window. 

“Do you think Alex would be mad at me if I went to visit Martha this morning?” he asks hoarsely. Lafayette sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“No, not at all,” he says gently. “You do whatever you need to do, Georgie.” 

Lafayette can tell that the nickname catches George off guard by the way he whips his head over and stares, his eyes getting misty. 

“Thanks, brother.” 

Lafayette leaves and gives George his privacy, tries not to hover outside the door. When he hears George throwing up, he forces himself to go into the kitchen. George doesn’t need Lafayette around nagging and babying him. 

He makes some coffee and watches CNN, checks his email. When his personal cellphone rings, he almost jumps out of his chair. He grabs it and smiles when he sees Angelica’s name. 

“Hey Angelica.” He can hear talking in the background and smirks when he hears Alex practically shouting. 

Angelica laughs. “Hey Laf. How’s George?” 

_How is George?_ Lafayette wonders. Nervous, scared, excited, happy. He’s too many emotions to condense into a coherent answer. 

“He’s good,” he says. Keep it simple. Vague. Unassuming. 

Angelica hesitates, and Lafayette hears the talking in the background fade, followed by the shutting of a door. When Angelica speaks again, her voice is low. 

“Is he _actually_ good, or are you just saying that?” 

_Damn._

“He’s… George.” Angelica snorts and huffs a laugh. 

“Alright, well, just make sure he doesn’t get cold feet and leave Alex at the altar, okay?”

Lafayette tries to laugh it off, but the memories of George’s first wedding are all too real. 

He calmly tells Angelica that he has to go and hurries back to the bedroom. The relief he feels when he hears George talking in the shower is enough to make his knees feel a little weak, and he laughs. It starts out as just a chuckle, but soon turns into a full body laugh as he doubles over and clutches his stomach. He laughs until his sides ache and tears stream from his eyes.

“Gil?” 

Lafayette immediately looks up when he sees George standing there wrapped in a towel staring at him. He coughs awkwardly and straightens up. 

“Hey. Sorry. I was just…”

“Cackling like a fucking maniac?” George deadpans. Lafayette flips him the bird.

“Fuck off. Sometimes a man just needs to laugh alone.” George rolls his eyes good naturedly and goes over to his suitcase. Lafayette politely averts his eyes as George changes. When he’s in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, they go into the kitchen and Lafayette makes George a cup of coffee. “You feeling okay?” he asks lightly. George blows on the top of his coffee and nods. 

“Yeah. I puked a couple of times—”

“Typical.” 

“Exactly,” George says ruefully. “But now I’m feeling better.” He takes a careful sip of his coffee and smiles at Lafayette. “Have you spoken to Angelica?” 

“She and I talked briefly. I could hear Alex talking in the background. He sounded excited.” 

George’s face breaks into a smile and it’s so beautiful—so _loving_ —that it takes Lafayette’s breath away. 

“I can’t wait to see him,” he says wistfully. Lafayette smiles and knocks his knee companionably against George’s. 

“I’m so happy for you, George. You deserve to be happy.” George ducks his head and smiles into his coffee. 

Then George raises his head and they share a long look. When George speaks, his voice is serious. Sober.

“Do you think Martha would be happy for me?” he whispers. 

Lafayette freezes, his mug halfway to his mouth. He clears his throat and sets his mug down on the table. 

“I do,” he says honestly. George looks away to stare at the wall. He heaves a sigh and nods. 

“Okay. Well, I’m going to go see her. Then we can start getting dressed, I guess. Do you know when Tallmadge and Geo are supposed to get here?” 

“They should be here in about an hour. I know Adrienne is bringing Geo at eleven thirty, and I told Tallmadge that’s when he should be here too.” 

George nods and stands up, leaving his half-empty coffee sitting to grow cold on the counter. He hesitates in the kitchen doorway, one foot across the threshold, before turning back to look at Lafayette. His expression is unreadable. Lafayette swallows. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” George sighs and smiles a little sadly. “I never thought we’d be here. Another wedding,” he murmurs. Then, meeting Lafayette’s eyes, he rolls his shoulders back and stands up a little straighter. A soldier going into battle. “Thanks for always being there for me, Gilbert.” 

Lafayette blinks, feels the tears pooling in his eyes. “I promised you that I’d always be there. You're my best friend, George. My brother.” 

George nods—one terse shake of his head—before he leaves, marching out. The little soldier boy. 

Sometimes it’s like no time has passed at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D.C. is AMAZING and I love it and never want to leave. I've done so many amazing things already. This past weekend I went to Mt. Vernon and it was great :') 
> 
> Idk when I'll update this again b/c my congressional work is crazy (AND SO FUN), but yeah. I've missed this verse <3
> 
> Comments are cool :-)


	2. A Completely New Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told y'all I'd finish the wedding fic!!
> 
> Here are [Alex](https://www.tacori.com/79-6) and [George's](https://www.tacori.com/109-6s) wedding rings!

George crouches in front of Martha’s grave and traces her name with his finger, a motion he’s done so many times it’s like second nature. He sighs loudly through his nose and glances up at the sky. It’s a clear day—not a cloud in the sky—and the sun is warm on the top of his head. 

He glances at his watch. Looks back down at Martha’s grave. Heaves a sigh. 

“I’m getting remarried in a few hours.” He shakes his head and sits down, crossing his legs. “And I’m sitting on the ground talking to a fucking rock.” George laughs hollowly and wipes his sweating palms on his shorts. “You know, I’ve spent so much time wondering what you would think about me and Alex, but I guess it really doesn’t matter. It’s not like you’re here. It’s just me and Alex.” George picks up a pebble and rubs it with his thumb, suddenly feeling so _stupid_. Why does he care if Martha would be happy?

He doesn’t know why he comes here anymore, why he goes through this. The whole fucking ritual. It doesn’t matter. Martha is dead; she’s been dead. And he has Alex. 

Alex is more than enough. Alex is _everything._

After George woke up in the middle of the night, too wired to sleep, he went on a long run around the property. It felt good: The balmy air, the crunch of the trail under his shoes, the sound of his heart beating like a drum. He ran and ran, letting it all out. Thinking. Breathing. Existing. 

He ran until his stomach hurt and his legs were wobbly. He ran until his lungs burned. He ran until he was too tired _not_ to sleep. 

Then he dreamed about Alex. 

It was so happy, so pure. Nothing like his dreams about Martha. Those are always so painful. Some nights he still dreads going to sleep, doesn't think he’ll be able to handle seeing her face. But dreaming about Alex? It always feels so good, so happy.

So he woke up this morning realizing that he’s tired of being sad. Tired of mourning a ghost. 

He heaves another sigh and leans forward to kiss Martha’s grave. The marble is hot against his lips, almost unbearably so. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

The rock doesn’t reply. 

Martha is gone and George is getting married, and even though he’s nervous and a little scared, he’s also ready. Ready to finally move on. Ready to begin a completely new chapter. 

Martha is gone and Alex is here. 

George stands up and leaves the cemetery without looking back. 

\---

“Mr. President, it’s an honor.” Caleb Brewster shakes George’s hand, and George inwardly grins. Caleb is trying so hard to be casual, but George can see right through him. George and Tallmadge share a look, and he knows that Tallmadge can see it too. He smiles, trying to put Caleb at ease. 

“Mr. Brewster, the honor is all mine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” George winks at Tallmadge and pats Caleb on the back. “Tall—Ben is my favorite agent. You’ve really hit the jackpot.” Tallmadge clears his throat and looks away, barely hiding a smile. 

“Alright, enough of that,” he mutters, placing a hand at the small of Caleb’s back. “You need to get out there with the other guests. We have special, groomsmen stuff to do.” Tallmadge leans down to whisper something in Caleb’s ear before he kisses him. As soon as he’s gone, Tallmadge lets out a deep breath and chuckles. “I told him to keep cool. He did an alright job.” 

“I’ve seen _way_ worse.” George smiles and squeezes Tallmadge’s shoulder. “Thank you again for doing this for me. It means a lot.” Tallmadge nods and smiles. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr. President.” 

“You don’t have to call me Mr. President tonight, if you don’t want to.” Tallmadge shrugs and pats George’s shoulder.

“Old habits die hard, Sir.” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Thank you—George.” Tallmadge flushes a little and looks away, the name clumsy on his tongue. 

“You’re welcome. You deserve to be up there with me.” George squeezes his shoulder before walking over to Lafayette and Geo. Geo’s eyes instantly light up, and George pulls him into a hug. 

“Hey George,” he laughs. “You look really fancy.” George smiles and tweaks Geo’s bowtie. 

“And so do you.” 

“You seem to be feeling better,” Lafayette says, eyes twinkling. George brushes his tux down and smiles a little bashfully, shrugging. 

“I am. This morning was…” George takes a breath and shrugs. “This morning was good. I feel good.” Lafayette pats his back before pulling him into a hug. His curly hair tickles George’s cheek and his face heats up when he remembers how nice it felt curled up in bed together last night. 

“Love you, brother,” Lafayette says in his ear. George nods, momentarily choked up, and pulls out of the hug. He knows his eyes are probably shining with tears and he quickly rubs them away. 

“Thanks—” His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat. “Thanks for everything. For keeping my secret and supporting me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Ugh, stop being so sappy George.” Lafayette grins and squeezes his shoulder. “Now, I believe you have a wedding to attend.” George’s stomach turns, a shot of anxiety racing from his stomach to his throat, and he takes a deep breath. 

“Right.” He chuckles nervously and reaches up to fiddle with his bowtie. “Okay. Lets do this.” He can do this. It’ll be fine. _Breathe._

“You gonna throw up again,” Lafayette teases. George rolls his eyes and smooths his tux down. 

“Shut up.” 

\---

George knew Alex was going to look beautiful, but he’s still knocked sideways when he sees him standing at the door, nervously fiddling with his hair only to have Angelica—a vision in a dark navy dress—bat his hands away. 

“You ready?” Lafayette whispers in his ear and George nods. 

They’re not doing any of that walking down the aisle shit. Alex doesn’t have a father to throw him away and they both hate the song Here Comes the Bride. Plus, Alex isn’t a fucking bride. So instead they settled on walking out in pairs, Alex and George bringing up the rear. 

Alex is busy grumbling about something, bickering with Angelica, when George walks up. He has to clear his throat and touch Alex’s elbow twice before he finally turns. George hopes he never forgets the look on his face, the pure adoration that lights up his chocolatey brown eyes. 

“George,” Alex whispers, voice thick and eyes misty. “You look so handsome.” He laughs and they stand there staring at each other. Alex’s hair is silky smooth where it hangs loose, framing his face, and George reaches out to reverently brush his fingers through it. Alex leans into the touch, finally pulling George into a hug and tucking his head into the crook of George’s neck. 

“Hey baby.” George clears his throat and squeezes Alex in a hug. “You look so fucking beautiful.” Angelica looks at him over the top of Alex’s head and narrows her eyes. 

“Don’t let him mess up his hair,” she hisses as she gets in position beside Lafayette. 

“Ignore her,” Alex mutters, his voice muffled. George laughs and coaxes Alex out of the hug. 

“Let me see your face, Alexander,” he murmurs. “I wanna see your face.” 

Alex steps back and George cups his face, holding him still. “Fuck I love you.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Alex quips, and it would be funnier if his voice wasn’t shaking with emotion. George presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“Honestly? Kind of.” 

“Me too.” George squeezes Alex’s hand and brushes his knuckles with a kiss. “But I think it’ll be worth it.” 

\---

The ceremony is a blur of flowers and pretty classical music from the string quartet in the corner.George never fancied himself a string quartet guy before, but, well, he’s a string quartet guy now. Apparently. 

The crowd is big, almost dauntingly so. George looks out from his spot up at the altar, nervously scanning the rows of guests. Jefferson and Madison are there. His entire fucking cabinet. His National Security Team. The Democratic leadership. Former President Franklin. Christ alive. 

The family side of the crowd is a little depressing. Adrienne is there, looking beautiful in a knee-length red cocktail dress. The other Schuyler sisters and Angelica’s boring boyfriend are on the second row. Vice President Schuyler and Senator Schuyler are next to them. Betty and Fielding are in the front row with his nephew Lawrence, looking bored. George can’t blame him. Wedding’s are, objectively, a little boring. Especially if you can’t get drunk as shit afterward. 

George swears he feels his heart skip a beat when he sees his old war buddy, Nate Greene, in the back row, looking austere and darkly handsome in his crisp, ceremonial uniform. He ducks out before the ceremony is over, but George can’t say he blames him. They haven’t spoken in years. The last George heard, Nate was in a rough place. PTSD, divorce, a botched suicide attempt. The whole shebang. 

When it’s time for them to say their vows, George barely makes it through the first fucking sentence before he starts crying. He would be more embarrassed if Alex wasn’t crying too. Half the audience is dabbing their eyes by the time George slips the ring on Alex’s finger. When Alex puts the ring on his finger, George marvels at how _good_ it feels to wear a wedding ring again. 

For a brief second, he’s painfully aware of Martha’s ring resting against his chest and his stomach hurts because what the fuck is he doing, but he pushes the thought away and drags Alex into a kiss. For the sake of being presidential, he keeps the kiss appropriate. Short. But he grins wolfishly at Alex, a promise for later. 

And then they’re married and it’s a whirlwind of pictures. Posing with Alex and the rest of the wedding party; then just Alex and him; then Lafayette and him; and on and on. George gets a little tired of hearing the same spiel every time they take a picture: _“Stand there, Mr. President—just, yeah. Right there. Don’t move. Okay everyone, say cheese!”_

Finally, _finally_ the pictures are over and everyone heads outside for the reception, leaving George and Alex blessedly alone for a moment before they make their grand entrance. George immediately pulls him into a kiss, all slow and tender and loving. It’s the best kiss they’ve ever had. Or maybe George is just happy. Probably both. 

“I love you,” he whispers against Alex’s lips and Alex laughs breathlessly, a puff of hot air against George’s lips. 

“I love you too. I never thought we’d get here.” Alex’s voice cracks and George hugs him close, blinking back another wave of tears.

“I know. Me too.” A tear runs down his cheek but he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. He just stands there holding Alex, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his chest. Alex presses a kiss to George’s jaw and rubs little circles into the small of his back. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ve never been better,” George says honestly, punctuating it with a hard kiss, quick and impulsive. “You’re the light of my fucking life.” 

Alex’s eyes are shining and his mouth seems to be frozen in a smile and George has never felt this warm, this _complete_ in his entire life. 

His love with Martha was tender and safe, but his love with Alex is all-consuming. Alex is his entire world. It’s like the Big Bang unhappened the day they met and Alex was a blackhole that sucked George in. He should’ve known he was a goner from the first moment Alex strolled into his office, impossibly young with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes. George blinks and clears his throat. “Thanks for sticking with me through all my shit,” he says softly, and Alex blinks, eyebrows furrowing before his eyes soften and he reaches up to stroke George’s cheek. 

“I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always be there for you.” 

And even though it’s a promise Alex can’t possibly keep, George lets himself believe it, if only for tonight. 

\---

As soon as they sit down to eat, the champagne starts flowing. The room is getting a little spinny by the time they reach the third course—chicken marsala with a side of lightly seasoned grilled squash, zucchini and eggplant—and George is really feeling it once they clear the plates and open up the dance floor. He can tell that Alex is feeling it too by the way he hangs off George’s arm, giggly and a little handsy in a way that George absolutely adores. 

Even though they’re both decidedly _not_ sober, their dance is beautiful and George swears to God he sees Lafayette dabbing his eyes with a paper napkin. (When he confronts him about it later, Lafayette claims he had something in his eye. Obviously). 

Alex lays his head on George’s shoulder as they sway together, and, as cliche as it is, George feels the entire room melt away until it’s just them in their own little world. George presses a kiss to the side of Alex’s head and squeezes his hip. 

“Are you having a good time?” 

Alex raises his head and gives George a small smile. “An amazing time. Are you?” 

“The time of my life.” 

They share a smile before George is kissing him again because God damn Alex’s lips are so beautiful. _He’s_ so beautiful. And sure, alcohol has always made George a little horny, but he can’t wait to peal Alex’s suit off and—

“Excuse me, but do you think I could steal your husband from you, Mr. President?” 

George blinks as Angelica comes up and touches George’s elbow. He belatedly realizes that the song is over and Alex is laughing at him, a teasing smile on his face. 

“Go mingle, love. I’m gonna dance with Angelica. Maybe drink some water so you’re not drunk off your ass at your own wedding.” George rolls his eyes as Alex takes Angelica’s hand and pulls her close. They look lovely dancing together, and George smiles at the way they’re laughing together. He never thought he’d get this close to his staff, but nothing is predictable in politics. 

And speaking of unpredictability, George turns around and comes face-to-face with Jefferson and Madison. Jefferson grins and pulls George into a hug. 

“Congratulations, Mr. President,” he says in George’s ear. George smiles and squeezes Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Hey, thanks Tom. I’m glad you two could make it.” George swallows and ducks his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you two.” 

“Don’t mention it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

George nods and rubs his eyes, chuckling. “Sorry, it’s been an emotional night.” He sniffs and clears his throat. “I’m really, really glad y’all could make it. Seriously. Enjoy yourselves, alright?” Jefferson grins and pats George’s back.

“Don’t worry. We intend to. That open bar is a big hit.” They both nod at him one more time before Jefferson is leading Madison away, a gentle hand on the small of his back. A little risky, but no one seems to notice. Good. 

\---

The reception goes on until the early hours of the morning. Cake is shoved into faces. More alcohol is consumed. George and Alex dance until they’re drenched in sweat. It’s a good night, but by the time the clock hits 2:15, George is tugging on Alex’s elbow and muttering in his ear that they should go inside. 

They stumble up the stairs together, giggly and loose from the alcohol, and fall into bed. The canopy above them flutters in the breeze from the air-conditioning and George stares up at it, waiting for the room to stop spinning. 

He hears rather than sees Alex get undressed. The unmistakable rustling of fabric. A shirt hitting the floor. George is content to just lay here staring at the ceiling, but then his need to see Alex wins out and he sits up, the air catching in his throat when he sees Alex standing in just his boxers, the thin material already tented with his erection. Alex grins wolfishly, eyes dark, and motions to George. 

“Take off your clothes, George.” Alex’s voice is tinged with hoarse arousal and something in George’s stomach twists as he feels his cock twitch. He immediately stands up and starts undressing, shucking his clothes unceremoniously and throwing them into a pile on the ground. Alex watches him through heavy, lidded eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and George’s head gets a little muddier with the praise. He’s down to just his boxers now, but Alex waves an impatient hand through the air and locks eyes with him. “Keep going.” George eagerly steps out of his boxers, kicking them to the side, and stands there, shivering as the cold air hits the tip of his hot cock. 

Alex stays sitting there, staring at him, eyes roaming over his body, and George is struck with how obscene this feels. Him just standing here letting Alex watch him, studying him like a piece of modern art at the MOMA. George swallows, the sound starkly loud in the otherwise quiet room. His cock is standing up proud against his stomach, already starting to leak precum, and he stares at Alex’s clothed erection. 

“Alexander. Please,” he whispers, desperately trying to work some spit into his dry mouth. He sounds fucking wrecked already and Alex hasn’t even _touched him_ yet. 

Alex grins, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and beckons George closer. 

George’s feet carry him forward, leaving his brain a second or two behind, and he struggles to catch up as he moves to stand in between Alex’s spread legs. He shivers, moaning, as Alex loops his arms around George to massage his ass. His eyes slide shut and he curls his toes hard enough to hurt when Alex rubs his entrance, just a teasing circle with the tip of his finger that sets George’s body on fire. “Alex, baby, please. I need you—I need you to touch me.” Alex’s face breaks into a Cheshire grin as he stands up, brushing their chests together. They’re standing so close that George can feel Alex’s hot breath on his neck. 

“Get on the bed, baby. Ass in the air.” 

George nods, bobbing his head like a fucking bobblehead, and clambers onto the bed. He hears Alex’s boxers hit the ground, listens as he climbs onto the bed behind him. 

George thrashes his head, rubbing it against the soft bedsheets as Alex palms his ass with both hands and _fuck;_ his cock twitches, heat coiling in his gut. 

Then a wet tongue is laving at George’s hole and he’s a fucking goner, falling forward into the mound of fluffy pillows with a startled cry. 

It’s so _good_ —the way Alex works him open with big swipes and probing jabs. George is a mess twenty seconds in, practically sobbing with want. When Alex drags his teeth across George’s entrance he swears he sees stars.

Alex takes his sweet time working George open, teasing him with small swipes of his tongue as George lays there panting and mumbling into the duvet. He feels like his entire body has turned to jello, like he may never be able to move again, and after Alex slowly drags his teeth over George’s entrance again, he feels like he might actually die if Alex doesn’t fuck him. The sensation is overwhelming—not nearly enough and _way too much_ all at the same time. 

George manages to summon all his remaining energy and takes a deep breath before pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Alex,” he begs. “Please touch me.” Alex laughs, a hot puff of air against his wet asshole, and George groans in frustration. “Alex—”

“Okay, okay,” Alex chuckles. “Hold your fuckin’ horses.” He pets along George’s ribcage for a few seconds, pressing an almost dainty kiss to the base of George’s spine, before he’s bounding off the bed and grabbing the lube. 

George twists around and watches as Alex drizzles lube on his fingers, slicking himself up. Alex’s lips are still red and shiny with saliva, and George feels lightheaded as Alex tips the bottle over his entrance. They share a long, tender look before George is burying his face back in the duvet as Alex works him open, easily slipping in two fingers in quick succession. 

Alex works him open dutifully—efficiently—and George whines as his cock throbs, neglected and leaking. _“Alexander,”_ he groans. “Please. Please, God. I need you right now. I’m serious.” 

He winces when he hears his own voice, high and whiny. _Needy_. But he fucking _needs_ this. They haven’t had sex in the past four days and George is about ready to pop off already. 

Alex just chuckles again, infuriatingly in control, and slips his fingers out. George whines, the feeling of emptiness definitely not what he’s been beginning for. 

Except then Alex is coaxing him onto his back, and George groans at the sight of Alex kneeling above him, his cock thick and gleaming with lube. George bites his lip and reaches out for Alex, dragging him down into a kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful, George,” Alex murmurs. “All laid out for me. Being such a good boy for me.” He lines the blunt head of his cock up with George’s entrance, and George groans as he teasingly rubs along the cleft of his ass. 

“Alex—oh _fuck.”_ George chokes off into a moan as Alex pushes into him in one fluid move, snapping his hips forward. George’s eyes roll back into his head and he melts into the bed once Alex gets fully seated inside him, his balls coming to nestle tight against George’s ass. 

“God you’re tight as shit, George,” Alex pants as he pulls out dead slowly, inch-by-inch, dragging it out. 

George feels like he’s going to _die._

“Alex,” he grunts. _“Move.”_

Alex grins down at him and gives the base of George’s aching cock a teasing squeeze. “Gladly.” 

Then Alex is fucking into him hard and fast, pounding his prostate over and over again. It’s amazing—being so full, the stretch of his skin around Alex’s cock. 

The sound of skin slapping skin is starkly loud in the room and the air feels about a thousand degrees all around them. George can feel the sweat pooling in the sheets underneath him, smells the sweat and musk heavy in the air around them, as Alex fucks him.

His cock is caught between their bodies and he shudders— _fuck_ —he’s already close, much too close, and knows he won’t last much longer. 

“Touch me,” George begs. _“Touch me.”_ His whole world is tightening, he’s already starting to see white, and Alex grabs George’s cock—

Neither of them last very long after that. All it takes is a few quick strokes and George is coming hard in Alex’s hand, painting hot stripes across his stomach. Alex follows soon after, his hips snapping sharply before he’s grunting and filling George with his cum. 

George whimpers when Alex pulls out, shifts uncomfortably as he feels Alex’s cum oozing down his ass. “Oh Alex,” he whispers, dizzy.

“Shh George,” Alex murmurs as he climbs off the bed and disappears into the attached bathroom. George lets his eyes slide shut, sighing softly when Alex wipes him clean with a warm washcloth.

Time slows down as Alex collapses down beside him and curls up along his back. His arms snake around George’s waist, and George relaxes into the embrace. They’re both panting still, chests heaving in tandem. 

Alex rubs George’s stomach and kisses his shoulder. “You were so good tonight. Such a good boy,” he mumbles sleepily, and George’s whole face heats up with the praise—part embarrassment, part arousal. 

“Thanks." He swallows. "I love you.” His jaw cracks as he yawns, and he pats the back of Alex’s hand, rubbing his wedding band. 

It feels damn good being married again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY hope y'all liked this!! Sorry if there are grammatical errors. I'm tired af and will fix them later. (I've been up since the ass crack of dawn b/c of the eclipse.. i got to see the total eclipse and it was amazing; it's always been a life dream of mine lmao)
> 
> I feel like I suck at writing smut BUT I'm trying to get better so sorry if this just sucks. 
> 
> Bottom George for the win, am I right?
> 
> Comments are great and I love them.


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